


I Tied My Wish Upon a Tree

by avidvampirehunter



Series: Threads of Fate [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aphrodisiacs, Arranged Marriage, Canon Elements, Consensual Sex, F/M, Force as a Religion, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Legends and Folklore, Loss of Virginity, Romance, Smut, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidvampirehunter/pseuds/avidvampirehunter
Summary: When the almighty Force, the being that holds all things in balance, demands that the darkness within its descendant be steadied by light, who is he to refuse?Kylo Ren, a force of Darkness, must join with a being of Light to bring balance to himself and the galaxy. But when a humble scavenger from a distant star is brought before him to become his wife, the Light in her is too strong to deny.There is only one way balance can be restored.(A twist on the Tanabata legend of Orihime and Hikoboshi)





	1. The First of the Seventh

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to the wonderful folks in the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology, who helped give me an excuse to write a story that's been in my heart for a long, long time.
> 
> This story is a two-part fanfiction in separate works, and is based on the "Tanabata" legend of Japanese folklore following the stars Orihime and Hikoboshi (also known as "Altair" and "Vega"), with a twist on the planet "Chandrila" from Star Wars canon.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

In light, there is darkness.

This is what they taught him, in the days since he was small. Among the gleaming palaces and radiant ornaments, glittering in their celestial adornment like stars in his eyes. In the creeping shadow along his floor, the sliver of dousing light, the flickering flames of the candle, he learned one could never exist without the other.

All that remains of that boy are portraits. Inky, sopping stains. He sighs to them in passing, a farewell to a past left to die somewhere deep in his soul.

How he longs in the quiet nights to be that innocent boy once more. Before the darkness consumed him, the will of the Force crowned him, the cruel destiny was thrust upon him. The galaxy needed a creature, but not one of the light. No. They needed a siege, a tempestuous wrath to wipe clean the pure and innocent spread thick across the stars.

Now, in the fog of the morning, he ascends the stone steps to his palace, mind lost in the endless sky. His advisors have summoned him for a reason foreboding. He can feel the warning roiling in his chest. Whatever awaits him within the stony fortress, he knows, will change the course of his destiny.

In what seems like moments he is within the massive chambers, lit low and windowless. On one side of the dias before his throne await two men: The first, a man of light, a beacon of the Force’s benign will, and his uncle. The second, a tall creature cloaked in shadow, an abysmal current of the Force’s natural mal-intent. These men stand as pillars of the Force, speakers of Its will, and advisors to the great Kylo Ren, whose dark cloak sweeps along the cold, stone floor as he enters.

“Why have you summoned me?” he questions, a growl crawling from his throat. 

Luke turns from the empty throne to watch his nephew approach, a deep-set frown etched into his scruff. “The Light has spoken.”

“The Light often speaks,” Kylo grunts, passing him to ascend the dias.

The frown persists, but not so much as his voice, which calls and echoes along the hallowed hall. “It spoke of a girl.”

Kylo pauses. This is new. He turns and sits on his throne, reclining as his nerves come alive within gloved fingertips. “What girl?”

Luke’s body jolts in the slightest of silent laughs, his bright eyes taking on a shining, knowing quality. “I have sent my students in pursuit of her. I believe the Force…  _ intends  _ her for you.”

“Speak plainly, Skywalker,” Kylo warns, heart pounding in his chest.

His Dark advisor, Snoke, gestures widely. “Your Highness… I believe your uncle has found you a bride.”

Kylo’s blood runs cold in his veins, shooting an icy glare towards Luke. Yet it is to Snoke he speaks. “Leave us.”

Snoke’s sinister face sinks lower into a frown. “I expect a full report of your seige—”

_ “Leave us!” _

He is silent, then bows deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As he leaves, closing the massive doors behind him, Kylo affixes his thoughts to his uncle. “Is it true?”

Luke sighs deeply, shoulders sagging. “I believe so. I’ve had a vision of a powerful light.”

Kylo braces his elbow on the arm of his throne, pressing a tight fist to his mouth. Could it be true? Has he fallen so far from grace? “You say the darkness within me is powerful.”

Coming closer, Luke gazes pleadingly up at him. “Ben, I don’t want to think so. Truly. But you can’t ignore it any longer. There’s only one way for balance to return to this place.”

Kylo closes his eyes. In his mind, the darkness, the  _ heat _ , roils. It spills and seeps over the lipped edges of his consciousness, spiraling between clenched teeth and stiff lips. “Very well,” he says, rising to loom over his advisor. There is no fighting it. No use denying the will of the Force. “Find this girl,” he orders dismissively. “Bring her to me.”

Through the Force, Kylo feels Luke’s despair begin to mount. He doesn’t understand it, until he probes his uncle’s mind. 

Kylo glares. “You pity me.”

“I always have,” Luke replies simply. Tired. “I wanted a different destiny for you.”

He scoffs, looking away. He will not bear this folly, this pretense that fate could ever be kind. “It is the will of the Force.”

“You say that so simply, as if you’ve never had a choice.”

“Have I?”

Luke shakes his head, finally turning away, giving in to the weight of his nephew’s gaze. As he dismisses himself, he whispers, “I hope so.”

Kylo falls back into his throne, heavy. This crushing truth, that he no longer has balance, that he will forever remain a plague upon the galaxy, renders the hollow of his throat to a pit. His jaw grows thick, gravity sucking him down into the Force’s will. A sacrifice. 

Time slinks by. The sun rises in plated sheets of golden light, the moon taking its place in the oceanic endlessness of night. Then, on the first day of the seventh month, a woman is brought to him in chains.

The students Luke sent may have fallen farther than Kylo himself, sparing no gentility. They, like this planet, bend to the Force’s will. He may not say the same of this girl, it seems, as she snarls along the floor. They struggle to keep her in place as Snoke follows them into the chamber, Luke not far behind. 

Kylo does not move from his station in the throne, watching in faux disinterest. As she comes closer, he can make out the whites of her teeth, blunt little things, and furious eyes.

She is tall for a woman, lithe and nimble in the resistance of her legs as her knees are forced to the stone. Her long arms tug at their chains, wrapped and bound in some kind of cloth. He senses a raging fire within her, like the sun from some unforgiving planet baked into her very soul. It echoes across the Force until she notices him, then all stands still.

Their eyes meet. For one moment, Kylo cannot recall for what purpose, only the richness of their color. And one piece of him—small, shriveled, not yet sworn to darkness—yearns to know their name.

Luke comes forward. “Enough of this. Order them to release her!”

Snoke sneers. “No! She is rabid as a curr; she must be restrained. Have you no decency, Skywalker?”

Kylo lifts his hand, and all is silent. Then he rises, stepping down from his throne to stand before her. His shadow falls over her face as she scrutinizes him, but he knows something. Learns, then, as the Force bestows a quiet voice upon him. “I’ve heard of you,” he says softly. She doesn’t react beyond a spiteful blink. He retreats from the Force, allowing her mind its privacy. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Luke answers for her. “She was found on Jakku—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Kylo barks.

The girl looks down, focusing hard, until she closes her eyes. “I felt something. I can’t explain it.” She looks up at Kylo, and he is drawn back to her. “No one would believe it.”

She does not need to say what it was. Already Kylo can feel the light emanating like the sun in her skin. Her face, youthful, turned up to him in confusion and hope, pulls at the cords of his chest. He frowns deeply, the darkness within recoiling as something warm rises from the pit of his soul. 

He looks to the students, then to Luke. “So it’s true, then.”

Closing his eyes, Luke nods.

Rage rises within Kylo, the reality of the situation bracing hot hands against his mind. The Force, it would seem, seeks to mold him further. Well, who is he to deny it? To be shaped into some indistinguishable mass, be of some use to a will greater than his own?

“Then,” he looks away, “the wedding will be arranged.”

The girl sits up, bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Kylo, in a slow shuffle of cloth, kneels before her. Her face is quite close, smooth and steely. “You’ve felt it, too,” he says simply as their audience gawks, openly unable to ignore the position of their king. “Has no one told you why you’ve come here?”

Her gaze darkness as knowledge, as hatred, fills them. Her wrath returns, vengeful. _“No._ I will never marry _you,”_ she snarls. 

“You deny the light inside you,” he groans. Could she truly not know how precious that light within her is? How many legions he’s killed to lose it? “But you cannot deny the will of the Force.”

“Oh really?” she growls, surging forward. The chains barely manage to restrain her as she comes closer. Her eyes are frightened, but her teeth bared for a fight. “Watch me.”

Kylo rises. “I will have no more of this foolishness.” He turns to Luke, waving his hand dismissively. “Escort her to her chambers.”

The students wrench her to her feet as Kylo turns away. “You,” she stammers, “you can’t keep me here!”

“Oh really?” He looks over his shoulder, fixing her a heated glare. _"_ _Watch_ me.”


	2. The Second of the Seventh

She eventually stops struggling, finding that the chaffing eases when she doesn’t pull too much. Instead, she takes in the grand structure of the palace, the invading grey of the world blooming along the stone.

The bearded man keeps a close eye on her as she is led to a large chamber. The layout is grand yet simple, a single room with balcony doors on the end leading to a marble terrace. The breeze shifts along the curtains, the draperies fluttering with gossamer thickness along the windows, matching the ones cascading over the large bed against the wall.

She holds her arms, easing the cold from her bones. The man, Luke, orders the cloaked underlings who captured her to release her bonds. They do, and she does not resist, welcoming the freedom to her wounded wrists. She rubs them and turns, staring until they are left alone.

He sighs, looking down with a solemn shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I would have gone to bring you here myself, but—”

“You’re a Jedi,” she interrupts, feeling a strange calm begin to suffuse her. She knows this feeling, has felt it many times—the ease before the attack, the settling of uneasy feet. Borderline surrender, hidden resistance. “Aren’t you supposed to _protect_ people?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he explains fruitlessly. “The Force called to you, didn’t it?”

She frowns. “So?”

Stroking his jaw, Luke shakes his head, pacing to the open balcony doors. Sunlight peaks through and hits his face as he gazes thoughtfully out. “There is a destiny for people like us. People the Light calls to.”

“‘The Light?’” she echoes.

“Yes. A powerful light. But, where there is powerful light, there is powerful darkness.” He turns to face her, a meaningful look in his eyes. “And vice-versa.”

“What does that have to do with me?” she probes curiously, stepping closer. He emits a strange, compelling wisdom that propels her forward, heavies the weight in the balls of her feet.

“He,” Luke sighs, waving his hand dismissively, as though he could care less about what he’s about to say, “has become the powerful darkness. The Force calls him there, and now it calls for balance. You.”

She shakes her head, scoffing. “Me? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m no one special, just—”

“A scavenger from a junkyard planet, I know,” he grounds out. “But have you considered that may be the very reason the Force calls to you at all? Calls you here, from the most unlikely of places?”

She considers that for a moment, but still finds no relief. Perhaps she could change the subject. “So. That man. He’s royalty?”

“And my nephew,” Luke grunts bitterly.

Blinking, she attempts to process how this man, with his greying hair and bright eyes, could share blood with that monster. “And that gives him the right to just _marry_ me?”

“No,” Luke huffs. “The Force does.”

As he speaks, he begins to walk to the chamber door. She is hot on his heels. “And if I refuse the Force’s will?” she challenges. “If I do not marry him?”

He pauses for a moment, fixing her with a deadly glare. “I wouldn’t test that, if I were you. The Force is not something you can trifle with. Like destiny, it always wins. Just save yourself the trouble—”

“Hang on—!”

“The wedding is in six days. You have until then to decide whether you want to reject what the Force has in store for you and face the consequences, or accept that _this_ is where you are meant to be,” he finishes, closing the door behind him. But before it shuts, she swears she can hear a soft “I’m sorry” flicker through the air.

And then she is alone.

There is no use trying the door. Since she arrived on this planet, intuition has grown in her mind like a limb. There are guards beyond the door. She can sense them, and decides it would be best to wait until the opportunity of escape presents itself.

As she explores her chamber, she trails her hands along every surface. Everything is smooth and hard, or soft and supple. The covers of the bed—oh, a bed!—dip beneath the press of her hand and she sighs, tempted to lie down and forget all that’s happened.

_They came for her in the morning, when the air was crisp and cold, steam gathering under her nose. They came from the shadows, and she knew why, knew deep inside that time had finally run out. Destiny, long-awaited and pined for, returned for her at last—in the form of chains._

She is pulled from her musings by the pattering of feet. Energy crackles through the air, a line of light etching on the wall. She jumps, awed by this strange sight, as a door is carved from what was once bare stone.

It opens, and a small woman pokes her head through the entrance. Her sweet, round face betrays youth and friendliness, the strange aura setting her instantly at ease. “Hi there,” the woman beams, entering the chamber. Two men follow close behind, matching her intense energy. “I’m Rose,” she greets, holding out her hand.

She takes it dumbly, shaking all of theirs in turn. They introduce themselves as servants and immediately urge her to follow them through the doorway. She does, intrigued. As they walk through, she touches the cold stone of the tunnel. “Is this the Force?” she asks reverently, basking in the miracle worked before her eyes.

“Yes,” the first man, Finn, replies. He takes her hand, letting her feel the warmth emanating from within him. “You sense it too, right? The Light?”

She nods, compelled to smile in this comforting gesture. Where once she may have shunned such a personal touch, she finds herself at ease. She finds something else, too. Something not quite normal. Not quite _mortal_. As they enter a separate chamber, a tall room ornate with lavish bathing utilities, she looks to all three and asks, “Are you human?”

The other man, Poe, snickers. “You’re a quick one. I like you.”

“We’re not human,” Rose answers sheepishly. “We have many names, but... I suppose you would call us ‘stars.’”

She blinks, taking a step back. Not in fear, but something else. A foreign awe. “Really?”

“More like the hearts of stars,” Finn elaborates, trading a knowing smile with Rose. “But instead of carbon, we’re made of kyber.”

As if to illustrate Finn’s point, Poe claps his hands twice. The light in the room douses, making her yelp, but none of that matters as their skin glows a brilliant array of colors.

Finn’s blue face ripples like diamonds as he smiles. “See?”

Rose comes closer to her, shining a bright golden light against Rey’s dull scavenger skin. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. Deep down, we are all the same.”

She stares openly at this marvel while Poe claps green-hued hands to return them all to some sense of normalcy. When it is quiet, she reminds herself to breathe. “Why are we here?” she asks.

“Our master may be a servant to the darkness, but that doesn’t mean we have to live like we are, too,” Poe smirks. “If you’re going to be our queen, there is a lot to teach you.”

As she balks, Rose takes her hand and squeezes gently. The warm energy pulses through her again, reminding her of the calm. “What’s your name, Mistress?”

She opens her mouth, feeling like sand could pour out. But it doesn’t, only the name she was given to cast along each dusted, barren grain of home. “I’m Rey.”

* * *

They bask her in luxury from dusk to dawn the next day, enough to make her stomach churn even as it is satiated. Silvery dishes glimmer within the safe confines of this lavish bath house hidden deep in the palace, where only she and the stars convene. The day stretches on and fades to the rear of her mind as her belly rounds with fullness. When she notices the men turn taps to fill a gaping pit of striking marble, she gawks as water—precious water!—floods the emptiness.

Rose tugs at her sleeve. “Shall I remove this?”

Rey’s throat dries and she glances nervously at Finn and Poe. “With them here?”

“Well,” Rose chuckles, “Kyber men rarely partake of carbon women, but if that makes you more comfortable… Boys!”

They look up, Finn letting a strange gel pour haphazardly into the steamy brew. “Yes?” At Rose’s look, he blinks as though surprised. “Oh! Oh, got it.” He stops pouring, whispering a foreign curse under his breath as an obscene amount of bubbles begin to rise. Poe helps him tame them, shutting off the water as the thick wall of foam bobs and jiggles itself to rippling calm.

Leaving, Poe winking a spark of green at the still-sheepish Rey, they close the wall behind them. Rose looks to her again. “May I?”

Rey shakes her head. “No, I can do it.” She smiles, beginning to disrobe. Her heart hammers as the sweet scent of something lively drifts into her nose, undoubtedly the massive tub lying in wait before her eager body. And eager she is, letting her filth-ridden shirt and trousers fall to the floor.

She dips in a naked toe, smiling as the sweet heat ripples through her skin. Then she enters in full, sighing as she wades to the neck in the dissolving bubbles. “This is amazing!” she cries, taking a handful to nuzzle the soft froth.

Rose sits astride the rim, leaning on her hand to watch Rey enjoy herself with approval in her pretty, dark eyes. “You come from a place with little,” she notes.

Rey halts her progress of creating a false beard, face falling as the white dribbles from her chin to join the mass below. “Depends on what you believe is much…” she whispers.

“... Food. Water. Shelter.” Rose ponders a moment, then, almost reverently, “Love.”

Looking into her ageless face, somehow smooth and full of youth nonetheless, Rey sinks lower into the tub. “Then you would be right.”

“We have all of those here,” the star promises soundly, confident in her truth. “This world is rich with much. You will never have little again, Rey.”

Well, she is correct in most things. As they have shown her, there is much food of many kinds to eat. Water flows freely, enough to waste what would be a year’s worth at home for a simple bath. And there is shelter in the massive stone of this castle, its dark and looming orifices swallowing her with every step. But love? No. There is no love to be found here—not in the chains, in the shadows, in the smoldering embers of his eyes.

Rose must sense her distress across the fragrant suds. “Are you afraid of him?”

Rey’s beard sheds as she defends, “No. I will not fear some… some _monster.”_

Rose seems both amused and affronted at this open insult thrust upon her master, but she does not betray more than a concealed smile. “He _is_ passionate, I think,” she concedes.

Managing the smallest flicker of a smile, Rey realizes how much she appreciates this simple act of presence, of understanding and warmth. Her heart sinks into the water as her thoughts coalesce, shining like the crystal of this woman’s hidden skin. She is reminded of him in the ethereal uniqueness of it, and before she can stop herself, whispers, “Is… is he made of kyber, too?”

Rose laughs aloud at that, rising to her feet. The act disarms Rey as Rose shakes her head. “No. I’m afraid the master is _all_ carbon.”

As she finishes speaking, the wall shimmers and opens. Rey jumps, summoning stray bubbles to conceal herself, but the lone figure emerging eases her. Somewhat.

She is a woman, an older woman, face weathered by hidden knowledge. Immediately, by the sheer white of her gown and stride despite her walking cane, Rey knows she holds power here. As she enters, Rose bows and takes her leave, giving the woman room to stand before Rey with a knowing smile between her cheeks. “So you’re the girl I’ve heard so much about.”

Rey covers herself below the water. “Hello.”

“Don’t be afraid,” the woman says, holding up a hand. “I won’t hurt you. And neither will he. Come. There is much to discuss.”

* * *

Rey settles, swaddled in a soft, fluffy cloud of strange cotton. It holds fast to every pore, soaking her skin and wrapping her in comfort. With this around her shoulders, catching her dripping hair, she finds herself relaxed in the presence of Leia Organa.

She introduces herself as a governing body in this realm, but also shares with Rey her relationship to Kylo Ren. Rey was both surprised yet not by this news, noting the similar eyes and proud carry of their shoulders.

She takes a sip from her mug. The drink is bitter yet warm and comforting, lulling her into the closest thing Rey has ever come to complacency. “So he is not the king, but a prince?”

Leia nods heavily. “Yes. His father was not royalty, so the title evades him, but he does rule this planet.”

“And what is this planet?”

“Chandrila. Or, what’s left of it.” Her eyes take on a distant quality. “He was born here. And as the darkness within him grew, it began to spread through the planet. But, in time, you will come to know that for yourself.” She leans forward suddenly, placing her hand upon Rey’s knee. “The Force is with you, Rey.”

Rey frowns, shedding her cocoon from her shoulders as she shrinks away. “I didn’t ask for that. I don’t want any part of it.”

“Rey, please, the balance of the galaxy—”

“Should not be up to me _._ Your Highness,” she says desperately, “I’m nothing. No one. Surely there is someone else in the galaxy more suitable…”

Leia lifts her brow. “More suitable than a survivor? Than a strong young woman with a fiery spirit? If so, then I would question my own royalty.” She scoffs. “In a way, I already do…”

Rey considers her in silence, stunned. “What do you mean?”

She gestures, leaning on her cane. “Well, it begins with my father…” A distant look overcomes her face as she recounts the tale to Rey—that her grandmother was impregnated by the Force, willed to give birth to a man called Anakin Skywalker. When darkness consumed him, balance was restored to the galaxy when Luke, Leia’s twin brother, convinced him to obey the Force’s will.

Since then, Luke has acted as the advisor, speaker of the Force’s will. From his light, darkness rose from the Unknown Regions of the galaxy in the form of Snoke. When Leia became pregnant, they both knew that a great and terrible power would befall her child. And, over some three-decades time, it did.

“My child has become a man,” Leia mourns softly. “A man who is losing his way. Rey,” she pleads, taking the young woman’s hands, holding her enraptured gaze. “We are all children of the Force, but he is _descended_ from it. The Force has chosen you to restore the balance. Before it’s too late.”

Rey closes her eyes, trying to fight the rising sense of certainty surfacing to meet this woman’s words. She knows that what she says is true, has known for some time, but in her heart she cannot accept. Not yet.

But she can try.

The door to her chamber opens, where a young, skittish man stands at attention. “Your Highness.” He bows steeply. He rises, only to bow again, this time at Rey. “My Lady. Lord Ren sends for you. He… requests that you meet him in the courtyard.”

Rey stiffens.

Leia rises with a grunt. “Go on, Dopheld. She will come when she is ready.”

The man, Dopheld, pales. Still, he does not argue, doing as he is told and leaving to deliver their response. As he leaves, Leia turns to Rey and winks. “Take your time. Make him wait for you.” With that, she exits Rey’s room, leaving her alone to sort out the various garb in her closet until, blissfully, Rose appears to help.

Her heart pounds in her chest, and she knows not whether it will ever stop now.

* * *

Kylo stands atop the steps to the courtyard, eyes cast on the silvery lining of distant clouds. The atmosphere rests in the dark grey of daylight, distant afternoon gold swirling with the black of night coming fast upon them.

He growls low. He has been waiting on this spot for what feels like hours, pacing like a dog until he remembers to stand still. He is but moments away from strangling Mitaka when a voice sounds behind him.

“You called?”

Kylo turns around, fully prepared to scold and demean this sand rat—who not only attempted to bite him the day before, but persisted to torment him even into his dreams. But now, as she takes up the entirety of his sight, the word “dream” is not adequate enough a description.

She steps closer, but maintains her distance. “Your Highness?”

His mouth is hanging open. Promptly he closes it, biting his cheek as beration  for his own foolishness. He scrutinizes her dress, trying to find _some_ fault in the flowing white cloth and bare shoulders, and fails miserably. “You’re divine.”

Rey blinks, taken aback, unsure whether she heard him. “...What?”

Kylo grumbles, brushing a hand over his mouth. “I said you’re behind. We must hurry, before the sun goes down. Come.”

Rey watches him lumber down the stone steps, a bit ruffled by his rudeness, but follows nonetheless.

He leads her off the palace grounds, along a road that leads through the trees. Rey keeps a fair distance, unwilling to be taken by surprise, and looks around. A ship carted her to the palace, but now, as she is surrounded, she is somewhat grateful fo it. The trees are black, charred as if burned, splayed in sharp, ugly claws gnarled towards the dark clouds.

She thinks about what his mother, Leia, had said. This world has been cursed, both by him and the Force. Her mind reels at the idea just one person could change a planet so.

As they walk, Rey can hear something growing. The shifting sound becomes a rushing, until they emerge from the treeline to an ashen clearing. Beyond, there is a river, rippling and flowing and dark, the other side joined by an enormous tree.

“This is the Amanogawa. It is the river that separates this planet. This tree is the only bridge across,” he informs simply, gesturing to the massive, almost ethereal structure of the tree. Its roots join together from both sides, twining into a massive sprout of dead branches.

Rey comes close, bending down to run her hand over a thick, dusty root. Her fingers buzz. “There’s energy inside.”

Kylo considers her. “The Force.”

She looks up at him from her crouched position, taking her hand away. The pulse of energy dissipates, but the feeling remains strong regardless. “What is it?”

Shifting his weight, Kylo’s eyes flicker with a brief moment of serenity. “It’s an energy scattered throughout the universe. It connects and binds everything together.”

Rey rises, her eyes sweeping over the desolate wasteland beyond the river. “And it did this?”

“Yes,” Kylo answers sternly, watching her. He’s seen quite enough of what he has turned this once beautiful planet into.

Frowning, but filled with a sudden purpose, Rey walks down to the riverbank. The silvery shine of dusk creeps in upon the molten sunset, the water changing color from a deep blue to black. But, as she looks closer, she can see something—and then _many_ somethings—sprout within their depths.

“Are those…?”

“Stars,” Kylo answers, coming to stand beside her. They look over the riverbank and into the water as it churns and ripples. The closer it is to their feet, the more stagnant and dark the water becomes, the more still the stars. “They’re reflections. The Force is strong in this river—it shows us every star in the galaxy. Maybe more.”

The quiet reverence in his voice comes darkly shaded with scorn, and Rey looks at him. As night descends upon them fully, the stars in the river shine lights so bright that his face gleams with a pale blue tint. The strong angle of his nose combats the softness of his jaw and hairline, and even softer is his gaze upon the stars.

He looks tired. Lost.

A heaviness passes through her chest, her shoulders falling as she considers the river once more. Unlike before, in the massive stone cage of his castle, there is freedom. They are surrounded by this curse, cast upon him by the Force he claims to serve, and Rey is plucked along a string of pity as she realizes that this is not the life he has chosen for himself.

And now she has become a part of it.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he says quietly. His gaze flits to her, eyes wide and reproachful. “What lies within this river is why I must remember what I have to do.”

Rey holds his eyes, heart beating fast. “And what is that?”

“This,” he gestures to the wasteland. “I am a servant of the Force. What it wills must be done.” The hard intensity returns to his eyes, sharpened by resolve. “I didn’t want this for either of us, but the Force chose you. You…” He shakes his head, looking away.

“A scavenger?” she supplies, gut wrenching.

He looks at her as if she knows the answer.

“Well, that’s not all I was. I have a name,” she contests sharply, glaring into the stars at her feet.

“I’m sure you do,” he says softly, more like an apology than anything else. Rey turns to glare at him, but his face has fallen and he looks at her with such helplessness, she wonders if he was ever given a name at all.

She fights for a slip of mercy, and by some miracle manages to find it, feeling an overwhelming calm. “Yours first.”

Kylo considers this for a moment, looking over her face. This woman is to become his wife. This woman, with her gentle beauty and lithe grace, her fiery spirit and intelligent eyes. He could tell her the name the Force gave him, the darkness that rots in his ribs and haunts his every dream. But, in that one moment, the twinkling lights of the galaxy lit upon the soft of her cheek, he yearns for something he’s thought long since lost. “Ben.”

The single word from his lips comes like a tremble, a whispered secret, and Rey feels herself unwind from the inside. It is a name of innocence, of truth, and whatever other name he has locked away has been pushed down for the man that stands before her now. “Ben,” she nods, smiling softly. “Can I… Make a request?”

His eyes flicker once more, and she could almost swear he takes the smallest of steps closer. “Name it.”

“I would like to come back here,” she admits, her tongue moving faster than rational thought. “Before the wedding. Perhaps I could learn more?”

She isn’t explicit on what, or whom, she’d like to learn more about. She doesn’t need to be.

He swallows, eyes boring into her, as though she could attack him at any moment. “Yes,” he says simply, face tight, as though such simplicity was hard-earned.

Her smile grows a little larger. “Good. Rey.”

His brow furrows in silent question.

“My name. It’s Rey,” she supplies, and with that crouches down to explore the water with curious, probing strokes.

Ben watches her, enraptured. Her name bounces around in his mind, echoing like a song, yet pulls against the chords of his tongue like he has spoken it many times before. This is how the Force works, he supposes, but does not dwell on such a thing.

Because, for the moment, Rey wants to see him again.


	3. The Third of the Seventh

Ben paces in his chambers like a restless beast. Sunset will come soon, and never before has he felt such unease.

Snoke stands at the center of the room, watching his Master with open scorn. “The Darkness calls, Kylo Ren. And you would ignore it for a simple meeting?”

“It’s not so simple,” Ben says, rubbing his mouth. He eyes his mentor challengingly. “You and Skywalker say I should know her. These meetings will see to that.”

“...You have compassion for her.”

Ben scoffs. “Please. It’s mere curiosity.”

Snoke moves closer, his ominous frame looming over even the height of his master. “Compassion is a path to the Light. Surely you know better than to walk it recklessly—”

“Enough,” Ben growls, lip curling. “I will do as I please in my own realm. The Force is my only master, and you will make no mistake of my allegiances.”

Snoke huffs, turning and stalking to the open windows. The grey light of day begins its swirl with the dark of night, bringing upon him a sense of eerie calm. “The Force, your master, speaks through me. I sense this girl will pose a dangerous influence on you,” he drones. “I tell you now, as your advisor…” he glares at Ben. “...don’t get too close.”

Ben halts his pacing, bare hands tightening into fists. “I must make some final adjustments. You may take your leave.”

With long legs, Snoke stalks out with purposeful strides. “I will oversee preparations for your next assignment. Don’t be late.”

Ben, now alone, frowns. His thoughts spin in circles as he pulls on his gloves and straightens his sleeves. Yes, he can feel the same tug in the back of his mind. This girl obviously has a great power lying dormant within her, and to be exposed to it without taking the proper precautions could prove dangerous to the delicate balance within him.

He runs a careful hand over his hair. The Force has willed Rey to him, for better or worse. Her request to meet him was sudden, quite surprising really, and he found himself accepting without a second thought. Now he’s had plenty of time for numerous thoughts, mostly on how best to approach her.

Of the female mind, Ben knows very little. Certainly he has come across them during torture, in instances where it was necessary. Their minds are complex systems, neural connections so labyrinthian he found himself lost most times. He much prefers interrogating men—simple, straightforward creatures with even simpler thoughts.

So, to wonder at Rey’s motivations is about as effective as swimming through the Amanogawa. 

No. He will simply have to spend time with her. Heed her request. A shiver ripples at the base of his spine at the thought, spurring his feet to action and taking him out into the halls of his palace, cape sweeping as they bring him closer to her.

Rey sits on her knees at the riverbank, staring into the water with fascination as he comes closer. The sunset swirls its golden stream with the black sky, the stars flickering to life as she dips her hand inside. When she lifts it, lights fall from her fingertips in clear rivulets to join the dark swell below.

Ben’s chest tightens at the sight, an indescribable power pulling him toward her. “Rey.”

Startled from her deep focus, Rey jolts to her feet. “Ben!”

The smallest of twinges plays at the corner of his lips, but he schools himself quickly. His eyes rove over her simple cream tunic and trousers, the leather cinch at her waist adding to the slight flair of her hips. “Shall we?” he says, offering a gloved hand.

Rey stares at it contemplatively before moving to stand beside him, obviously planning on keeping her hands to herself. Accepting yet somewhat bemused, he does the same as they walk along the riverside.

“I’ve heard of you too, you know. They called you by another name,” Rey mentions at length, eyes cast upon the desolate scenery. “Why?”

Ben does not hesitate in his answer. “My advisor thought it best. The Force willed me in a different path than the one I used to walk.”

Rey considers him distantly. “The Light?”

“...Yes,” he replies, nearly a sigh. 

Rey stops, staring up at him, expression unreadable beyond a glimmer of fury raging beneath. “Who would do such a thing?” she questions heatedly.

He bites his cheek, ruffled by her open disdain. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“The Force’s will, then?” she challenges, crossing her arms. The stars are beginning to gleam a bright, pearlescent shimmer, casting a halo around her head as it merges with the light of the golden skystreams. 

“Your understanding is flawed,” he brushes off, retaining her gaze with a deep stare. “You have a lot to learn.”

“And no one to teach me,” she huffs, turning and walking off along the stones. 

Ben’s eyes follow her, then his feet, catching up in quick, easy strides. He does not recognize the slight pitch in his voice as he says, “I could show you.” Rey stops again, but does not look at him. He finds himself breathing heavily, whether in his pursuit or something else, he cannot decide. Then his voice comes gently, almost a whisper. “I could show you.”

Rey turns and glances up at him over her shoulder, eying him with scrutiny—as an animal debating trust in a trap. “Why should I trust you?”

“No reason,” he answers simply, not quite shrugging his shoulders. His voice comes deep and sincere as he bends slightly to meet her eye better in the burgeoning darkness. “We are willed. Rey…” Her name feels too good, too  _ right.  _ He swallows, holding his palm to her. 

When she eyes it nervously, he slips off the glove and lets it fall to the side, returning it to her bare. Her gaze meets his again, this time softer. Open.  _ Willing. _

“Let me show you,” he says, remaining steady despite the quaking tremble in his arm, in his body, as sudden and unstable as a dying star. His voice drops to a whisper. “Please.”

Rey takes in a deep breath, looking into the eyes of the man who has captured her. It feels… right, to be here, like this. To  _ want  _ to touch him. Inhibitions pleaded into flight, she finds none and reaches out to slip her fingers into his.

_ He is a young boy—and, when he is angered, things break themselves.  _

_ He feels broken, too. _

Rey gasps, pulling her hand away. Her lungs struggle to fill with air, suddenly so heavy, but it is too late. Ben is gone; she is underwater—it flows around her, thick and pulsing, stars shrouding her. Staring.

“Ben…?” she opens her mouth to call, as if it will aid in her escape. But, for what little she knows of water, she knows her voice should not carry so clearly as this—nor should her body suddenly feel like the crushing weight is mere gravity, the darkness air.

Stars float past her lazily, like dust motes or whispering sands in the morning wind, shifting all around her feet. She walks along the riverbed, letting the current guide her deeper into the darkness, where no light shines.

And once enveloped, she is no longer alone.

_ He is approached by him, the creature. He is tall. He is shriveled. He is old and chilled to the touch. He calls himself a strange name, and every syllable sounds like ooze. Like lies. _

_ The creature says he is of something else. He is the balance of Uncle’s awesome power, of Mother’s, of  _ his _. He says not to be afraid. To control it. To master it. To become strong. _

_ To follow the Force’s will. _

Rey can feel herself beginning to surface, yet the water fights to keep her down. Pulls at her ankles, grasps at her bones, making her cold. Water is becoming water again, but the pain she feels is not her own.

_ They decide to call him Kylo Ren. His name is whispered between planets, shushed by fearful mothers, snickered by rueful younglings—all of whom know nothing of death. _

_ Until he arrives. _

_ It is only some. Here. There. A balance. The galaxy is too good. The worlds are too pure, now. Unbalanced. They must be set to right. He is the only one to do it. Him alone. _

_ Alone in his bed, he cannot sleep. He remembers their faces. He weeps. _

_ “Come to the surface, Rey…” _ a voice is calling to her. It sounds familiar, but she doesn’t know where or how or why. Light ripples above her, the weight crashing, consuming and cold. The darkness is easier. 

It calls to her, too.

_ As years pass, it becomes easier. _

_ As faces fade and bodies bleed and people cease to be, by the will of the Force, it becomes easier. _

She struggles, flailing, unable to move as she is caught between, until the voice wraps around her mind again, the phantom warmth of arms around her body urging her to awaken from the inside.

_ “It’s just a dream,” _ the voice murmurs. So softly, so gently, as if it cares, as if it sees her as much as she’s seeing  _ him.  _

Kylo Ren. 

Ben Solo.

_ He cannot awaken from this dream. _

Rey fights, she  _ fights. _

_ This nightmare. _

_ “Rey!” _

Rey jolts, seizing, trapped in an iron grip. His arms hold her steadily to his chest, her eyes wide and searching his. The pressure has left her, making her feel light, yet still she drowns. 

His hair drips onto her face like tears, one after another as he stares down at her—probably the same way she stares at him. There is dirt and sand on his coat when there wasn’t before, cape discarded—wrapped around her—mud caked over his cheek, but that is  _ nothing  _ compared to the sudden, overwhelming realization that dawns within her throbbing consciousness.

She  _ knows  _ him.

Suddenly, when it is not possible, she knows everything about him. She knows what he wanted to be, the song his mother sang to him in the night, the _feelings_ he experienced as his power grew. The pride in harnessing it. The despair over what it became. 

In those few moments were a lifetime. In that one touch she saw it all.

Ben breathes deeply, shuddering with the effort, throat scratched from the aftermath of the sandstorm she shrouded over him within her mind. He had not expected to see so much devastation in her short life. The pain, the loneliness so like his own... and yet her hope remained. Unwavering. Faithful. _Good._

They know then that he is hers, that she will be his—that what they are can never be anything less.


	4. The Fourth of the Seventh

Rey is awoken by a sudden banging on her door, a muffled curse, and a soft knock.

Groaning, she pulls her shawl from the chair, wrapping it over her shoulders. The world lies dormant in the comfortable morning grey, her bare feet casting small shadows as she opens the door.

On the other side is Ben. Caught between a posture too hunched for regality and too stiff to be casual, his hands clench and unclench at his sides. “Hello.”

“Hey.” She squints, sleep still burning at the corners of her eyes. She pulls the shawl a little tighter for decency’s sake. He doesn’t seem to notice—or decides to ignore it. Either way, she yawns. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he says simply. 

It strikes her then—by the tone she suddenly knows so well and the strange intuition thrumming through her veins—that he doesn’t know, either.

He shifts his weight, looking down at his boots. “I wanted to see you.”

Rey, struck by his earnestness, nods. Not knowing whether to smile and thank him or something else entirely, she begins to shut the door. “One second.”

His eyes snap up in a dark mixture of surprise and hunger when it closes. Rey leans against the door, heart hammering. Then, with a determined set to her shoulders, she strides to the closet and begins the arduous task of dressing for the day.

Her hands skim quickly, the Force rippling as she comes into contact with— _ oh. _

When she’s dressed, hair pulled back and left to drape around her neck, she opens the door to find him still rooted to the spot on the other side, eyeing the halls with a scowl.

It dissipates immediately.

Rey fists the skirt nervously, letting it wrinkle in her palm as his eyes sweep over her, his jaw slack and lips parted, brow drawn, lost in some complex thought—or the opposite.

Her chest swells with pride. “Do you like it?”

His eyes return to hers, a gleam passing through his intense gaze, and he nods once before offering her his ungloved hand.

She takes it easily, feeling the resonating power stir between them, like leaves in the wind, before it settles down again. His hand is massive compared to hers, enveloping her in warmth and surprising softness. Her fingers cup over the edge of his as they walk companionably through the halls.

Ben swallows, nerves shot. He couldn’t sleep at all last night, too overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of raw emotion and  _ power  _ she bestowed upon him. And, to make matters worse, she decided to wear an inviting gown in the most delightful shade of his favorite color.

He need not question how she knows that, or why, or what precisely his mind is planning for that dress without his permission.

Rey follows him, trusting, and soon figures out for herself where they are heading. Her eyes light as he pushes open the door to reveal the dining hall, already littered with steaming plates and waiting chairs.

He guides her to the nearest one, pulling out her seat and then his own at the head. She pulls herself forward and suddenly their hands are together again, his thumb running laps around the bones of her knuckles. He stares at his progress intently. “How did you sleep?”

“Well, I think,” Rey replies, shivering slightly as cold pleasure snakes between her shoulder blades at his deft caress. “Much better than before.”

He nods, just to acknowledge he heard her.

Rey looks at his limp hair and tired eyes. “You didn’t sleep.”

Now he shakes his head. “I didn’t want to.”

She knows he never does. That the nightmares come for him there. She folds her lips, fighting for a small smile as she turns over their hands to hold his heavy in her palm. He looks at her then, deep into her eyes, and she can feel an invisible pull around her heart tugging her closer to him.

Resisting the pull, Rey turns her attention back to the spread, clearing her throat. “Shall we?” she stammers.

His eyes crinkle the way they do when he’s amused. Without a word, he lifts his hand, and the platter nearest Rey begins to float. Her heart stutters to a halt before kicking itself back into gear at the sight, all of this still so new to her. It comes closer at his beckoning, tilting to show an inviting array of sweet-smelling pastries. “Take whatever you want,” he purrs.

Rey would roll her eyes at his smugness, but she is hungry and does as she’s told. Taking several and loading her plate, she begins the eager task of scarfing down every morsel. The sweetness coats her tongue and she hums, eyes sliding shut in utter culinary bliss.

“Do you like them?” he asks, knowing full well the answer yet feigning curiosity nonetheless. He looks at her, hunched slightly, as might a predator stalking its prey.

She smiles with bloated cheeks. “Mhm.”

The space around his mouth twitches loose, eyes softening and growing wide around the edges as he turns his attention to gathering his own plate. They eat in relative silence, cycles of conversation, and the occasional “accidental” brush of hands as they make business of breakfast.

Eventually, he tosses his cloth napkin onto the table and rises from his seat. Rey cranes her neck to look up at him as he holds out his hand. “Come. There is something I want to show you.”

She considers his hand, then his face, with a wry smile. “Is this another one of your Force tricks?”

He shakes his head, voice soft. “No tricks,” he insists, holding out his hand again.

Rey brushes a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, coyly placing her hand in his and letting him guide her out of the palace and into the courtyard, making a steady path for the river. His pace slows to match hers, long legs slicing through the air at a gentle rhythm. 

The afternoon grey begins to uncurl with white clouds that Rey has never seen before. She considers them quietly as Ben leads her on.

“Rey,” he starts, drawing her attention back to him. His lips fold as he swallows, and she can feel his pulse beat rapidly beneath his skin. He seems feverish, and she worries for him until he stops and returns his gaze to their entwined hands. “Before… before I show you, there is something you must know.”

Her lip quirks at the corner. “But I already know everything about you,” she jokes lightheartedly. 

His eyes flit up to hers, and suddenly everything feels dangerous. She falls silent as he stills, holding fast to her fingers with one hand, his expression almost pained. “After that.”

Rey doesn’t resist the pull any longer, taking a step closer. “What is it?” she whispers. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, soft curls bobbing against his cheek as he considers her. “Nothing... anymore. For the first time, I feel…” he strokes her knuckles and the soft skin at the back of her hand. Then he scoffs quietly, almost a laugh. “...right.”

She can’t take her eyes off his face. “I know what you mean.”

It’s immediate, the way he lifts his head to look at her, as if she’s told him the secrets of the universe and he missed the final word. Determination brims in his eyes, returning him to full height and shaky limbs as he guides her onwards. “What do you know about this planet?”

“As much as you do,” she says, squeezing his hand.

The shadow of a sheepish smile plays wrinkles under his chin. He squeezes back. “Then you know about wishes.”

“I think so.” Rey wets her lips, focusing on the dirt and grey grass as she searches her mind. It occurs to her then, unveiled. Her eyes lift, intent on finding his, but are torn instead to the Amanogawa Tree. 

As they come closer, Rey could almost swear it sprouted multi-colored vines in the night. But as she steps closer, Ben letting her go ahead, she realizes why he asked his question.

Ribbons. Hundreds of them, maybe more, tied to every branch and swaying in the deft breeze stirred by the rushing river underneath. Rey steps onto a sturdy root, reaching up to gently touch the silk with her fingertips.  _ “You _ did this?” she asks.

“Yes.”

She continues until she is standing over the middle of the Amanogawa, her eyes following the dancing colors shining surrounding her, chasing away the gloom of the world around them as light filters through. “They’re  _ amazing _ ,” she murmurs.

“Read one,” he encourages. Rey looks over her shoulder at him—he has that hunched look again—before turning her attention upward. 

She reaches above her head, wrapping her fingers around a red ribbon, tugging gently until it comes loose and flutters into her waiting palms. Her heart beats swiftly, eager to see what secret wishes he’d written so diligently in the night.

Breath abandons her when she reads the one, lonely word scrolled with such precision, such gentleness and care.

_ Rey. _

She looks up at him, into his eyes, suddenly so warm and endless. Desperation claws at her throat, and she reaches up for another ribbon, pulling it down.  _ Rey.  _ Another.  _ Rey.  _

All of them. She doesn’t have to look to know what they all say, and suddenly she feels quite dizzy. He says her name when she sways into his arms, as his warm hands envelop her sides in a steady grip. 

The silk falls from her, taken into the water as tears burn down her cheeks. The light and color dances around them, making everything blurry as she buries her head in his chest. “Why?” she chokes.

One of Ben’s hands smooths along the back of her head, caressing her hair and cupping the back of her neck as he urges her to look up at him. Eventually, with great effort, she does, holding his broken, longing gaze. His lower lip trembles as he studies her face. “You know why,” he mutters.

She sobs once as his head comes down to meet hers, his other hand sweeping both of her own and pressing them to his chest. She can feel his heart beating, strong and unsteady. She can feel his thoughts racing, all to one place she dare not go.

Rey closes her eyes when he does, fighting for breath as he speaks slowly, gently, lulling and rich with truth. “Rey…” his voice deepens, pauses, making space for her. “...I know you. I  _ sense  _ you. Everywhere…”

“Ben,” she whispers, encouraging him, begging him to stop before it’s too late.

He doesn’t listen, or perhaps he does. His breath is warm against her cheek, her lips. “Do you know what I would give,” he asks, caressing the back of her neck, spilling her hair through his fingers, “to love you as any man could?”

Her trapped fingers tighten into a fist against his chest, arms shaking beneath the weight of his words. The Ben she knows, the one she saw, who lives within her mind, already knows the truth. And she—whoever she is now—feels it, too.

Their noses touch, lips hovering close, held apart by something not quite will.

But wills be damned.

Her voice comes as a whisper, a command, a plea. “...show me.”

There is only a breath before she feels the soft touch of his lips on the corner of her own, her thoughts muddled to everything but the sharp sensation of his mouth sliding steadily against hers until she is fit against him.

He groans faintly, pulling away only to return and kiss her once more, this time from the other side, relishing the new sensations sparking between them. Rey’s every nerve jumps, the warm embrace of his hand at the back of her neck squeezing as she comes closer to him, pressing her hands on his chest until she can feel his heart pounding against her palm.

At her moan of pleasure from the soft sensations cascading down her body, he tenses, turning his head to deepen the kiss, his hand squeezing both of hers tightly, effectively pinning them against him as he pulls her closer. The stifling heat of his body reaches out, yearning to embrace her, to consume.

He follows some unknown instinct, kissing her languidly, drawing small sounds from the back of her throat. Listening to the ricochet of desire inside of her, she dares press her lips back, joining his exploration. Her tongue moves to taste him before she can think otherwise, and he growls, releasing her hands to grasp her by the waist and pull her flush against him. 

Rey takes her freedom in the form of his hair in her hands, her fingers twining, feeling the softness for herself. He moans into her mouth before separating from it, his eyes dark and consuming as he stares down at her. “Marry me,” he pants.

“I will,” she says breathlessly, pulling him back to her. 

He drags her against his body, the hard mass of his abdomen colliding in a mess of heat with her stomach, tongue and teeth and smacking wetness until their lungs can take no more. His hand drifts up and down small of her back, keeping her close as he inhales shakily. “Love me,” he whispers, peppering soft, damp kisses along her jaw to her ear, where his voice cracks beneath its own weight. “Love me.”

Rey shudders, tugging him to where she can look in his eyes. There is softness there, still, and desire, laid bare between the prison bars of his self-control. She nods, seeing him, wishing she always had. 

“I do,” she assures, stroking the sides of his face. “I do.”

He nuzzles into her palm, placing a tender kiss upon her wrist with his red mouth, dark eyes boring into hers with an insatiable hunger. His thumb comes to wipe the stray tears from her cheek before he ducks down to pull her close to him, burying his face in her neck. The touch of his nose and lips against the sensitive skin makes her tremble, a foreign anticipation winding around her spine as she throws her arms over his shoulders to return the embrace.

They remain like that, entangled with one another, the colors of his every wish dancing over the waters until they darken and become stars.


	5. The Fifth of the Seventh

Overcome with emotion, he reclines naked in his bed, unable to close his eyes for fear of losing the memory of her in his arms. His heart races, a foolish smile spreading on his face as he finally begins to catch his breath.

Rey. She’d kissed him. Or, at least, gave in to  _ his _ . He probes his lower lip with his tongue, nearly shuddering at the lingering taste.

After knowing her so deeply, seeing her in her entirety, he can no longer deny the feelings she’s stirred within him. Whether the Force willed it to be or not, he can feel even now that his soul is bound to hers.

He attempts to ease his thoughts before they can descend, scrambling for control over the fever threatening to overcome him. One glance upon his lap shows signs of that plan already failing. He considers himself for a moment, debating the potential of recalling one of Rey’s more intimate memories for his own gain, and reaches down—

The door to his chamber flies open, and he quickly withdraws his hand. “What is it?” he snaps.

The tall shadow of Snoke sweeps into his room, unabashed at the rude entry. He folds his hands behind his back, leveling his master with a glare. “The Force has a new assignment for you.”

Ben sits up, scowling. “This late?”

Snoke tilts his head. “You’ve never minded before.”

Not even attempting to retain some semblance of dignity, Ben rises from his bed and paces over to the window, where the light of the Amanogawa glimmers a blue crevice in the distance. He bites his cheek, unwilling to turn around. “What must I do?”

“A cull,” Snoke replies simply. Ben can hear him restrain a shrug.

He takes a breath. “How many?”

Snoke is silent, until… “A planet.”

Ben turns on his heel, incredulous as he stares at his Dark vizier. “That has never happened before. Why now?” he challenges, heat rising in his throat.

“There has been an imbalance. The Light has shifted greatly into power. It must be aligned.”

“It will never be in balance,” Ben groans. “As long as the Force exists, It’s will always changes, and now It expects me to murder a planet of people?”

A menacing frown splits into Snoke’s sunken cheeks. “Have you forsaken your allegiances? Forgotten what has made you who you are—?”

“I don’t  _ care  _ who I am,” he spits, hands balling into fists at his sides. How long has he never been himself? How long has he been the Force’s puppet, dragged along by the strings of those who know it best? The questions roil in his mind, the push and pull beginning to tear it in two.

“You are unbalanced,” Snoke accuses, pointing a crooked finger at Ben’s stricken face. “Tamed by a girl who has never held the Force—”

“You will not speak of her.” He darkens, treading closer. His massive frame competes with Snoke’s height, yet he makes himself taller.

“You’re  _ weak,”  _ Snoke drones. “And once the Force has decided it so, it will take away all that you hold most dear.”

His words strike prophecy in Ben’s chest, his heart sinking even as it races, running itself into the ground. Closing his eyes, he tries but cannot hide from the truth. The Force brought Rey to him. Light. To deny what he is in the Force could threaten the balance between them, fragile and new as it is. He can’t risk that, not for a thousand planets. 

His voice comes quiet, defeated. “Which one?”

Snoke eases, returning to the stiff form of a corpse. “Jakku.”

Ben lifts his head, considering Snoke warily. He is certain the creature knows the significance, but keeps silent. Rey’s memories flash in his mind—pain, anguish, suffering, fear. All of the things she withstood in light, he could strike down in darkness. Anger rises in his shoulders, his neck, the urge to destroy more compelling than ever before.

Suddenly the idea comes much better, the will of the Force made just again. He straightens, voice dipped with authority. “Prepare my ship.”

* * *

Rey paces in the dining room, unable to relax.

Luke sits beside Leia as they both eat, faces somber and downcast. 

Eventually Rey stops, muttering frustratedly, primed to scream or flip something over. In the less-discontent portion of her mind she’s sure Ben would enjoy that.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop it,” Luke calls from the table. “You’ll waste your energy running in circles like that.”

“It’s not about wasting energy,” Rey retorts. “I’m worried.”

“I know, dear,” Leia sighs, slumping somewhat. “He’s not usually gone this long.”

She stews a moment, wallowing in her grief over what will of the Force he could be carrying out now. “What did Snoke say?” Rey questions. When both avoid her gaze, Rey paces closer, fixing Luke an accusatory glare, her heart poisoned by worry. “What did he say?”

“It’s a Dark matter. Nothing to concern yourself with—”

“I think I can concern myself with Ben just fine.”

Leia’s head snaps up, her eyes lighting like a spark caught to flame. “You know his name?”

She pauses, worry dissipating somewhat. “He told me.”  _ Showed me even more. _

Luke runs a hand over his close beard, eyes sunken with a deep sense of defeat. “You won’t like it,” he warns, meeting her eyes. Even in age and weariness their blue reminds Rey what color the sky  _ should  _ be.

“Tell me anyway,” Rey murmurs, resolute.

“Snoke… The Force...” Luke begins softly, covering his eyes as he braces the elbow against the table. A shroud of despair cloaks him with Dark energy. “They sent him to kill off an entire planet.”

The foundations beneath Rey shift, and she feels like her knees will give out the moment she tries to move. To lunge and claw at this man’s face, to run back to the tree where everything makes sense. But she doesn’t do either, rooted still as her mouth dries and her thoughts liquify down to her feet. 

She blinks. “He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that...”

“Rey—” Leia starts.

“He  _ wouldn’t!”  _ Rey spits out, finally finding the strength to back away.”He’s done awful things before, I know that, but he would  _ never  _ go that far…!”

Luke fixes her with a glare, the Darkness threaded between them, tainting the Light they share. Though old, she sees him as a younger man, once filled with hopes now dashed. “Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

His words settle heavily in her bones, casting them in the iron weight of hidden meaning, the potential behind them. Heart pounding, she feels cornered, trapped like a wild animal as Leia stands and comes closer to comfort her.

But she cannot stay. The pain is too much, not knowing yet  _ knowing  _ that Ben,  _ her  _ Ben, would never do something so wrong, so evil.

So she backs away, turning and sprinting through the door, long legs carrying her through the halls until she is out in the stony courtyard. The distant sky whirls with black, sinking into the grey, consuming the gold like poison. The air is heavy and she stops on the steps to catch her breath just as his shuttle drops out of hyperspace, descending into the atmosphere and landing before her.

When the ramp drops, his dark form lumbering slowly down the grated durasteel, Rey marches down the steps and meets him, her hands resting on his shoulders. His dark eyes seem dazed, worn, withered as if cast into a fire to curl in upon itself and become ash.

“It’s not true. Tell me it’s not true,” she pushes, heart racing.

Ben’s gloved hand reaches up to stroke her cheek, focusing on her eyes, her soft skin. She’s been waiting for him. In his tired mind, he doesn’t register her words, only remembers the warm comfort of her embrace, and he yearns to push away the Darkness, the pain blooming inside of him.

He kisses her urgently, holding her face, sighing in relief when their lips meet. In all the years of the war inside him, his desperate scrambling for peace where there was none to be found, in her mouth he finds the perfect surrender, the love and understanding he craves to receive, to give.

But her hands reach up and push forcefully against his chest, separating them. Confused, he looks into her eyes and stiffens. There are tears on her cheeks, but not the ones he’ll accept. They are not of joy or love, but cold with fear and  _ hate. _

“Tell me it’s not true,” she repeats, throat constricting. 

Her lips are still wet from his kiss, but the distraction is welcome. He bites the inside of his mouth, hard enough to draw blood. 

Rey can feel her chest constricting, her heart seizing and squeezing every organ, every vein in her body. “No…” she whimpers, backing away. His hands slide from her neck, outstretched.

His lower lip trembles, and he steps forward, eyes pleading. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” He reaches out again, warmth spreading where his fingers wrap gently around her arm. She flinches, but he must comfort her. He knows the pain all too well. “It had to be done.”

“It  _ didn’t!” _

“It did,” he whispers. The Dark swirls inside of him, voice murmuring encouragement, the opportunity to help her understand. “They hurt you.”

She blinks up at him in confusion, a tear sliding down her cheek. He wipes it away as she stammers. “What…?

“Jakku is gone,” he presses. Behind him, the sky deepens into a stormy void. There’s something wild hidden behind his eyes, and it shakes Rey to her core. “They can never hurt you again.”

Trembling, she steps back, almost tripping over the stairs. She shakes her head, desperate to refuse this, to return to when he was just Ben. “You’re a monster,” she growls.

Something in his body hardens, a vise of warring anger and despair at the look in her eyes, as if they have only just met, like she doesn’t know him at all. “I do what the Force wills, Rey. To  _ protect  _ you.” His voice falters. Desperately his mind claws for something,  _ anything,  _ that will make her stay. “Please,” he reaches out, taking her wrist in his hand. When she tries to pull away he tightens his hold, forcing her to look up into his face as tears gather in his eyes. “I love you.”

She snivels, her lips parting as she stifles a sob. “I… I can’t. I love  _ Ben.  _ Not… not Kylo Ren,” she laments, using her free hand to shove his away. She turns and flees back up the steps, leaving him behind in the burgeoning shadows and charged air as the storm moves in.

Defeated, rendered, his hands tighten into fists as he watches her disappear. He bows his head when the rain begins to pour. Lightning streaks a golden hue across the sky and, trembling, he unleashes his crackling lightsaber to destroy everything in sight.


	6. The Sixth of the Seventh

The rain continues on to the next day.

He paces outside her door, almost knocking on several occasions, but she does not answer. He considers forcing himself inside, but knows that Rey would never take kindly to that. He contemplates every diplomatic tactic he can, each option ending in fantastic failure through the course of his mind.

Their wedding is tomorrow, and his beloved despises him.

Running a hand through his hair, Ben looks back and forth down the hall. As if sensing his need, the Kyber girl, Rose, emerges from the stone wall. 

She looks less than pleased. “Master.”

“Rose Tico,” he replies, hushed. “I want you to deliver a message for me.”

“Oh,” she flickers curiously. “Which planet?”

He gestures shyly to Rey’s door. It’s not another planet, but it might as well be. 

“Ah,” she says, obviously trying not to smile. “What’s the message?”

* * *

Standing before the tree, Ben waits, looking out onto the horizon as the storm continues to roil overhead, rain falling in and out of turn. The river ripples with each small strike; the stars will not be visible tonight.

His hair sticks to his nape, dewey with lingering droplets and misted everywhere else. Beads stick to his face and soak his overcoat, but he does not care. He had the message delivered to Rey, and he must have faith she will meet him here.

He knows her. He does. She is resilient, tough yet tender, hardened by the world in all ways but the ones that really matter. And it’s an all-consuming type of love that flows through him—as if he has known her all along—which makes the emptiness borderline unbearable now.

At one point the idea of a spouse deterred him greatly. The discernment that no one could ever look on him in love with the blood on his hands, the Darkness coursing through his veins.

Beneath the tree and damp, swaying ribbons he looks down, seeing his own shadowy reflection in the Amanogawa. Hatred pumps through him, a white-hot sear of disdain for the man he sees.

The man the Force made him to be.

How he longs for the days of his innocence and youth. When the Light was unabashed, would shine on him with gentle rays, touch his naked face here on the shores of his homeworld. And yet the Dark remains, the storm brewing and gathering with mighty vengeance.

Ben closes his eyes contemplatively, but all he sees is her horror, the fear of him rekindled. 

He doesn’t want her to be afraid. How could he? He clenches his hands into fists at his sides, holding fast to the memory of her own inside. 

If he were to deny the Force, there would be no knowing what could happen—until it’s too late to change anything. Yet his heart cries out recklessly, restlessly, to join with the nostalgic  _ ache  _ of her Light.

He wants to be what she wants. Not Kylo Ren. That name should be dead to him for all it’s caused, all it’s done to this world and countless others in the name of  _ balance _ . Before her, there was only shadow. But now he sees it here, in the dark eyes staring back at him from the galaxy below, that all may not be lost.

_ Ben? _

His name in her voice calls, but not from his surroundings. He can feel her in his mind, snapping like a band against the back of his eyes, and he wipes the wetness from his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately, spitting out the words gathered at the back of his throat. “I never meant to—”

_ Something’s wrong,  _ she cuts him off, her voice panting.  _ I… I can’t make it stop. _

He straightens, turning and already making long strides for the palace. “I’m coming,” he says, battling through the rise and fall of panic in his pulse. He cannot tell whose it is anymore, only a ferocious heat beginning to build at the base of his spine, spreading like phantom fire.

_ Hurry—! _

Ben doesn’t allow any time to consider the curious state of their Bond, only somewhat surprised by the ease with which she caught on to mental communication. He makes a note to compliment her on it later as he ascends the steps.

Coming closer to her room, the fire in his body suddenly shifts, gaining speed and making him sweat. He doesn’t knock, twisting the knob and pushing through.

Rey sits on the edge of her bed, hands clenched into the sheets beside her, eyes wide and wild as they look up at him.

He closes the door, rushing to her and kneeling, covering her fists with his large hands and holding her eyes. With a quick sweep of her person she doesn’t seem harmed, and a surge of relief helps him breathe a bit lighter. Still, the fire rages. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t…” she shakes her head, trailing off as she looks at his face. “I think it’s you.”

He winces. “Oh,” he slides his hands off slowly, realizing she still may not want him touching her. “I see.”

Without warning, Rey lunges forward, rooting her hands in his hair and joining their mouths in a fierce kiss. Ben pauses, uncertain, until the fire spreads to his arms and he throws them around her.

He moans in pleasure as her tongue smooths over his, exploring him. When she pulls back to take a breath, he’s left panting, staring after her with hooded eyes. “Rey,” he whispers, leaning in to press a small kiss to her cheek, her ear, holding her close. “Forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, breathless, her hands racing up and down his back. She turns her head, biting his ear, sending delicious shivers down every sinew of his arms. “I do.” She grips his shoulders, holding him fast and tight as she runs her tongue experimentally over his lobe.

Ben shudders, grunting with surprise at the electricity of such a simple touch. It leaves no room for embarrassment—though she will certainly be smeared with rainwater now. The thought abandons him quickly, however, as the soft sound of her lips caresses the sensitive skin. His hands begin to wander over her waist, clutching as eagerness begins to take its toll.

When she nips him again, he utters a warning growl. “Rey… why did you call me here?” he questions darkly, ducking his head to nuzzle her neck. 

She arches into him, almost knocking him over. “I need you.”

“Oh?” he murmurs, a pleased smugness cascading through his empty mind. Instinct and a new sense of confidence lead his lips to the smooth column of her throat, where he plants long, warm, lingering kisses between each word. “And why is that?”

A sigh of pleasure leaks past her parted lips into his ear, shooting straight to his groin. Every muscle in his body cries out to push her down—on the bed, on the floor, on the wall, anywhere and everywhere she’ll let him—and see how far that sensation will take them, how many more he can coax from her lovely mouth. 

Rey swallows, wiggling closer, her knees on either side of his. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before.”

He hums, pulling down her sleeve to kiss her shoulder, toying the tip of his tongue against the taut flesh. “Neither have I,” he admits. Though, were he in a more lucid state, he would know she is very much aware his lack of such… intimate interactions.

As he continues, enjoying the way she squirms, his eyes flit up to her nightstand, and he pauses.

Rey whines, pulling on his tunic. “Ben…”

He holds her arms tightly, keeping her still as he looks at the half-eaten food on the stand. That’s… not like her. She would eat it all once she’s started. A vain part of his mind says it’s because she was worried for him, but he knows if she is worried she wouldn’t touch a morsel. Something is off, dangerously so, burning in his mind like the phantom fire.

He meets her eyes and finds them dilated,  _ severely.  _ Her breath comes in short pants, her features flush with a chemical rush, sweat gathering beneath her jaw.

Daring to tap into her mind, just for one second, he is overwhelmed with the heady musk of femininity and filthy intentions, none of which come from herself, but something else. 

He pulls from her mind in an instant, taking with him a lingering pulse that—to his newfound dismay—only hardens him more. He ignores it best he can as dread falls over his shoulders. “Who gave that to you?” he probes, unwilling to venture another journey into her thoughts. He may not be able to escape them again.

“Huh?” she slurs, struggling to brush her hands along his sides.

With great effort, he releases her, rising and investigating her tray. It’s a simple enough meal that anyone in the palace could prepare, servant or otherwise. It has no Force signature, and by appearances alone there is nothing out of the ordinary. “Who gave this— _ uh…” _

With his back turned, Rey had risen to stand behind him. Her hand smooths hot down his abdomen, the other curiously pawing his ass. Her voice slithers like silk into his ear as she nuzzles his clothed shoulder blade, warm breath sinking past the damp cloth as her fingers caress the growing bulge in his pants. “I know what you like, Ben,” she whispers, pressing harder, making him jolt. She starts to stroke. “I can do it, too…”

He whimpers helplessly, voice splintering as he reaches down to still her movements. Heat rises into his face, mortification of her seeing his older habits warring with the pleasant sensations demanding his subservience. 

But this is not Rey—or, not only her—and he cannot let her do something she will regret.

“Rey, that’s enough,” he gulps, turning and holding her hands down at her sides. She only struggles a bit, seemingly enjoying his touch—which doesn’t help his resolve. “Think. Who brought your food?”

“Rose, I think... I thought,” she answers eventually. She shrugs slightly. “I don’t know. It was just here when I came in. I was hungry...” she trails off.

She’d left her room? Ah, yes. Her hair is wet, the whiff of sweet fruits wafting into his nose. He bites back a groan at the revelation. “Someone poisoned your food,” he grunts.

This seems to snap her from her trance, her eyes sliding from his lap to his face. “Wh-what?” she sputters. He can almost hear her pulse escalate through the Force. “Am I dying?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, you’re…” he swallows, searching for the right word, “...compliant.”

A flicker of understanding lights in her eyes before fading into dullness. Her voice comes husky, sultry, tempting. “Yes, I am.”

“Rey—”

“Touch me,” she begs, trying to wrench her hands free. She manages one, cupping it around the back of his head and bringing herself to his mouth. He yields to her kiss, but only slightly, closing his eyes to savor this moment before he scrambles for a solution. 

“I won’t,” he whispers, taking her cheek. “Not like that. Not like this…”

She begins to pant. Anger, hurt and confusion riddle her sweet features, sweeping rejection over her face. He knows that feeling—it’s the way he felt only yesterday when she refused him. She kept her strength then, soldered to her resolve with cast-iron will. Now he must do the same. 

So, even as she mewls, trying to kiss him again, he pulls his head away and sweeps her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. 

Excitement blooms inside her, hitting him like a suckerpunch. He drops her gracelessly, but she is not put off, waiting for him with an inviting open and close of her long, slender legs. “Are you going to touch me, Ben?”

He tries not to stare, standing at the edge of the bed with grim determination. “You need to let the poison out of your system.”

“But it hurts,” she murmurs petulantly. This is truly unlike her.

“You’ve been through worse,” he sighs, sitting down. “Just be patient. I’ll wait with you.”

She shuffles, discontent, reaching out to stroke his arm. “Do you think I’m pretty?” she asks suddenly.

He glances at her over his shoulder, lone witness to the writhing sensuality of his precious Rey. “That and more,” he replies simply.

Red rises in her cheeks as she absently strokes her neck, just over the spot he last kissed. Her gaze is distant and hazy. “Prettier than other girls?”

It takes him a moment to understand, but when he does he almost laughs. Settling instead for a scoff, he turns and captures her hand, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I may have seen plenty in my travels, Rey, but none will ever compare.” He presses a chaste kiss to her cuticles, erection finally subsiding. He sighs in relief, caressing her knuckles in patient reverence. “You are all I want.”

She tries to tug his hand between her legs. “Then prove it,” she whispers, devious urgency returning with a vengeance.

But he’s stronger, keeping her hand with him, instead, essentially pinning her. “Nice try,” he grumbles darkly, fixing her with an amused smirk. With the notion of poison in her veins taking over his Rey’s rational thought, it becomes much easier to resist.

Now, if this were truly Rey, it would be an entirely different story. He would not hesitate to press her into the crisp sheets, explore the beautiful body he’s seen through her eyes. He knows every insecurity and  _ fully  _ intends to eradicate them after tomorrow’s ceremony.

An hour passes, the darkness complete in the sky, everything around them shaded. He can feel her presence return, the dim light brightening, the phantom fire finally subsiding, letting him breathe again.

Her mortification spikes as her voice comes in a quiet murmur. “You can let go now.”

He believes her, letting her retract her hand and hold it to her chest as she sits up against the headboard, scooting away from him ever so slightly. His eyes follow hers, shrouded silvery moonlight cast on her cheek. The distant blue of the Amanogawa ripples beyond.

She opens her mouth, closes, and opens it again. “Thank you. For not—”

“It’s nothing,” he supplies quickly, looking down into his joined hands as he slouches, bracing elbows on his thighs. 

“Still,” Rey whispers. “I… I could feel it, too. The way you wanted…” She shakes her head, folding her lips. “Nevermind.”

“Rey…” he begins, but doesn’t know how to end. All he can do is scramble, clutching fast to the idea of prostrating himself before her, begging her forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I am.”

“I know,” she sighs softly, and he can hear her sniffle. “I know you can’t… you can’t stop it. I knew that and I still…” she wraps her arms around herself, vulnerable, and now he’s the one who wants to cry. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”

His head snaps to look at her, eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, hiding her eyes. It takes him by surprise, stunning him into silence as she weeps quietly, fighting to speak through her tears. “It hurt me. The Dark. I felt it in you, and I was so afraid…”

“You don’t have to be,” he whispers, almost like a plea. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out to her, caressing her wrist to elbow until she shows her face again. He takes in the sight of it in the blue dim—beautiful, radiant even in sadness and guilt. All his perfect  _ Rey _ . “Don’t be afraid.”  _ Not of me. _

His gentility seems to rouse something in her. A new determination, a willingness, and love finally returns to her eyes, emerging like a plant from its seed. Her hand lifts to cup over his fingers, and she closes her eyes, surrendering to his comfort with a shaky breath. “Hold me?” she murmurs.

Ben doesn’t hesitate, shifting and settling in beside her, letting her lean forward and get comfortable as his arms encircle her, both hands joining, fingers toying in the silence broken by the soft smack of his kiss against her hair. “Like this?”

Rey smiles slightly, nodding, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good,” he grunts, letting them nest in the quiet and calm. The night encroaches slowly, neither moving nor speaking, only holding fast to one another until dawn, when their grips go slack with sleep.


	7. The Seventh of the End

Rey wakes to a gleeful Rose, mortified Finn, and smirking Poe. Beside her, a tangled mess of sheets and dark hair and broody royalty snores softly, enjoying the first peaceful sleep he’s had in six years.

She waves them off, hushed, and when they’ve gone, lays back down to sap up his warmth and stare at his face in the grey morning light. The gold and silver-trimmed clouds sweep over his cheek, the loose strand of inky hair so inviting she must resist brushing it off.

His snoring peters out eventually, his parted lips closing while his eyes open. Registering her, he blinks, and warmth sinks into her bones through their curious Bond. He shifts, lifting a massive hand to her neck, sweeping it with the back of his knuckles in one long, savory stroke. “Hello.”

She beams from the pillow. “Hi.”

He turns onto his back and stretches, grunting. “What time is it?”

“Early,” she teases, enjoying the view of his exposed stomach and slight, thin trail of dark hair.

Catching her thought, he turns to give her a dark, warning look. Not one of anger, more of a threat she would happily spur on. But a different type of eagerness sprouts in his chest, taking the moment away. “It’s the seventh,” he mutters groggily.

“I know,” she smiles, moving to sit up.

He does too, biting his cheek, face pinched with concern. “If you—”

She cuts him off, pressing her fingers to his lips. He doesn’t resist as she speaks. “Yes. I do. Last night, before… well, I had time to think. I know the Force is absolute. No matter how much it may hurt, I need to remember that this happens for a reason.”

His eyes grow infinitely sad. “Rey,” he murmurs against her fingertips, closing off his gaze to take her wrist, pressing slow, sensual kisses down to her palm. “It’s not about the Force now. Just us. I won’t let it separate us like that again.”

Her heart flutters in her chest. “You won’t?”

Shaking his head, Ben holds her hand against his heart, looking into her eyes with earnest. “I won’t. Rey, from the first moment… things have changed. I feel _Light_ again.” He pulls her close, cupping her face and drawing closer. “I won’t let it go.”

Their lips meet softly, tentatively, as if it were new. It feels like it could be, for all the electricity in her veins, the heated pleasure of closeness, the yearning for even more. But they stop quickly, both already panting at the power thrumming between the live wires of their bodies.

Rey laughs uncertainty. “We may need another planet for this. I don’t know if this building will hold…” She blushes.

“Let it fall,” he murmurs, kissing her again.

And again.

* * *

The ceremony is an elaborate one for the small amount in attendance. Older people of various species come, none of which either Ben or Rey know, but Leia can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s held in the reception room of the palace, ornate tapestries fluttering with the shaded image of the Prime Jedi along the high stone arches. The back wall above the shallow podium is joined with glorious stained glass, shining rivulets of ethereal light upon the dias.

Rey awaits outside, pacing on the stone balcony. Luke told her Ben is just on the other side, and she can feel him mirroring her movements. Impatience, nerves, excitement swirl around in the Bond, growing more and more taut as time passes. She distracts herself by looking at the sky, glancing curiously at the strange, slim presence of blue on the distant horizon.

Her thoughts are cut off when she hears a harsh slam.

She’s caught biting her nail when the door opens, the somber, serious music summoning her. Straightening her posture, she obeys it, her feet carrying her forward as he mirrors her with shorter, stiffer strides.

His eyes find hers and Rey is lost to them, tempted to simply run and return into the arms that hold her so well, that offered her comfort in the night. But she restrains herself, finding a hidden delight in the burning hunger of his gaze, the eager twitch of his eye, the faintest shifting of his fingers at his sides.

When they meet in the center of the dias, Snoke and Luke take their places before them. A sour bile rises in Rey’s throat at the sight of the ghoulish creature who tortured Ben all those years, and in the Bond she senses Ben’s mixture of pride and regret at her sentiment. Realizing her anger should have no place here, she tamps it down, reminding him instead of her love with a fleeting, knowing glance.

They recite an ancient code of balance, the crowd falling silent, and urge Rey and Ben to join their right hands. Rey holds hers out immediately, Ben coming to meet her slowly, treasuring every second. When their fingers touch the energy between them hums with contentment, twining around their arms and clasping their hands with bare, flush palms.

Luke wraps the red ceremonial thread around their hands, tears brimming in his eyes, as Snoke feeds him the string until it runs out.

With a final word, the crowd roars with approval, and Rey smiles, tugging her husband down the aisle and rushing out the doors, leaving everyone behind in a fit of giggling laughter and the warmth of his broad grin.

* * *

He devours her lips hungrily, hands groping and squeezing her hips as she sighs happily into his mouth. When he breaks to breathe, lapping sloppy kisses on the soft of her jaw, Rey glances out the viewport window as they drift lazily through the Chandrila skyline. “Where are we going?” she asks, breath hitching as he sucks a small red mark on its joint.

His plush lips smirk against her skin, now damp with his impatient affections. “You’ll see. We’re almost there,” he rumbles, teasing her thighs with the tips of his fingers, sending delightful shivers down to her toes.

She wiggles in his lap, enjoying the way it muddles his normally sharp thoughts. More and more she is beginning to sense him. Perhaps the ceremony was more than a simple formality… or their souls truly were just _willed._ Either way, she tangles her fingers in his hair and greedily takes what he gives.

They linger on the border of passion when the autopilot lands the ship. Ben hesitantly parts from her, his lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes on her face as he lifts and carries her down the ramp.

Rey’s eyes, so used to the grey, are forced into a squint, the brightness making her dizzy. Carefully, he sets her down, and when her eyes finally adjust, she gasps.

Blue. The sky is a swirl of bright jeweled blues, strained with darker streaks, blending with the glittering gold. She looks back the way they came, noticing how the blue only stretches so far until it is grey again. Still, she looks to Ben in awe. “Is this real?”

He nods, clasping her hand. “It’s you.”

Before them is a glittering white palace, smaller than the stone one in height,but it makes up for it in creativity. It’s a crystalline formation, growing from the ground like a glorious stalagmite.

“I know this place,” she whispers reverently, meeting his attentive gaze. “You were born here.”

He nods again. “The Light Palace. It was dark for years, but… this morning, all these days, did you not see the whites in the clouds? The changing sky on the horizon?”

Rey nods, too. “This morning, yes. Before the ceremony, I could see it.” Her eyes squint when she smiles, squeezing his hand meaningfully. “I could _always_ see it.”

Unable to resist, Ben leans down, kissing her cheek before sweeping her up again, carrying his bride into the empty palace of his birth.

* * *

It begins tentatively, and his hands are shaking at his sides.

Rey loosens her hair, combing it out with her fingers, letting it fall to her bare shoulders. Her slight bosom rises and falls, betraying her racing heart, and his eyes never leave her for a moment.

She takes a step forward, closing the distance, and he swallows, shuddering as her arms wrap around his neck, fingers winding through his hair with soft, stroking scratches.

His hands find her hips, caressing up and down with his hot palms as he wills his heart to slow down and give him _some_ semblance of thought to hold on to. But there is none to be found. The slight silk of her slip brushes against the thin fabric of his undershirt, and he shivers, a riot of blood in his veins. “Rey, I…”

She smiles, rising to press a warm, solid kiss on his lips. “I know,” she whispers.

Ben exhales, quick and hot with relief, before crushing her to him. His arms encircle her, gripping tight and holding fast, roaming the glorious length of her spine, following the curve to grip her backside.

She gasps into his mouth, and he smiles, capturing her again between his langrous squeezing. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he murmurs, spinning thumbs at the sensitive ridges of her hips.

Rey shakes her head, silently burying it in his chest as she succumbs to the pleasure of his touch, hiding the sweet mortification he senses rising in her, stoked by his hand.

Slowly, he ducks, placing his lips at her ear. The sweet scent of her hair engulfs him, spreading hot desire through every inch of his body. “I’m going to give what’s been denied you, Rey...” he rasps, breathing her in and pulling her flush against his aching cock. She shivers under his roving palms, bending and pliant to his touch, the pressure of her warmth gripping him with icy claws. He walks them until her knees bump against the bed, and takes her thigh in hand to ease her down, keeping them connected as he finds her eyes. His voice is ragged, worn, unleveled by his breathing, caught in the rising power between them. “I’m going to make you _whole.”_

A rush of ecstasy pulses through him from her, the Force twining between them, tightening just within perception. With hooded eyes, Rey nods, her arms pulling him down by the neck to join them in a passionate kiss.

They remain like that briefly, the sensual stroke of her tongue against the sensitive skin of his lips making his hands quiver with the unbridled urge to _possess_ her, to push her down and rid them both of this meaningless distance.

He doesn’t push but presses, using his body to move her up where she can lie stretched beneath him. Already her loose hair has spread around her, her eyes dark and full, as yearning as his own. The hand on her thigh inches up, feeling the smooth, warm skin of her untouched body. The unknown territory rushes through him, the sensation of her pleasure guiding him further and further until he can feel the absence of her underclothes.

Ben swallows thickly, finding her face expectant and devious. Breath leaves him as he holds her eyes, shifting across the width of her leg to find—oh.

Rey gasps softly as his fingers stretch, probing at her hidden flesh. Her lashes flutter closed, her mouth parting. “Ben,” she whispers breathlessly.

He quickly tempers the intense urge to simply tear her clothes, to bare her fully to him. The throb between his legs pulses hot, weighing heavily as it begins to make its presence known against the seam of his trousers. Deftly, watching her face, he moves his fingers in gentle swirls, stroking the tender skin and downy hair of her womanhood.

Her mewls steadily rise as he follows her pleasure downward, his eyes trained on her parted lips, the blunt of her teeth, when his thumb brushes agaisnt her folds.

They both shudder, Rey’s eyes opening to join his in the shock, the jolt of bliss ricocheting through her. She trembles. “There… th— _ahn!”_

Ben doesn’t hesitate, bracing on his elbow, lying on his side, feeling the warmth of her body beside him as he slides his fingers along the seam of her cunt, tracking arousal in their wake. Pride wars in him with the knowledge that _he_ has made her this way, that she trusts him so. “Yes, Rey…” he sighs, leaning over to press soft, damp kisses to her cheek, her temple, her hair. He keeps every movement slow, relishing the way she rises under his touch. “That’s it. Let me have you,” he whispers, heart racing as he presses gently, feeling as her body gives way, letting him inside.

“Ah,” Rey cries softly, arching as he slides further, the ridges of her walls constricting around his fingers. He pauses before moving on, closing his eyes to savor the rapturous sensations of her most private of places. It feels like divination to touch her so, to feel the spark of her pleasure through their bond. What a curious thing she is. His beloved, his wife.

As he gains speed, her silken walls coated in her sweet arousal, the shift of his thick fingers meets less resistance, and he adds another. She moans as the pleasure takes hold, her hand grasping onto his shoulder, his arm, wrapped around him as he pumps into her.

“Yes, yes,” she pants, “I’m… I’m so… so close,” she gasps, the pads of his crooked fingers curling into her body, the touch burning her brighter than the core of a star. She cries out, her head falling back against the pillow as rapture overtakes her. He feels it pulsing through her: the steady throb of bliss, the hot wave of her release leaking onto his knuckles and palm.

When her sightless eyes blink back into reality, he brings his split fingers to his mouth, holding her gaze as his thick tongue slides over the web to taste. He closes his mouth over it, lips red and plush from her lingering kiss, and moans deep in his throat. “Mm…” he hums thoughtfully, lapping up the rest. “As I predicted. You’re divine.”

She blinks, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Wh-what?”

He smirks, eyes simmering and deep as he moves to loom over her, his shadow cast across her open, eager gaze. “I said,” he croons, leaning down, kissing just the corner of her lips—as he had what feels like a lifetime ago. “You’re _mine.”_

She shivers, her hands grasping his arms, sliding up to drape over his back as he kisses her, strong tongue seizing control over hers, lapping languidly through her lips. His cock twitches ardently against her thigh and she chuckles into his mouth, spreading her perfect thighs to allow him closer.

Pulling back to watch their bodies press flush together, Ben swallows the gathering anticipation in his throat, experimentally sliding through her folds. The girth of his cock spreads the swollen, slick lips of her cunt, her sweet moans and mewls goading him on through each steady stroke of his hips.

Weak with desire, his arms quake, giving out, bringing his lips to her ear. “I’m sorry,” he pants, “I won’t be able to hold on.”

He feels her smile against his cheek before she kisses it, then his temple, her love blooming in his body anew. “You’ve given me more than enough, Ben,” she sighs, meeting his eyes before laying a simple kiss on the tip of his nose. “I can take it.”

“Oh, you will,” he promises, his touch hesitant, reverent on her cheek as his fingers slide down her neck. When she arches he chuckles, slouching to kiss the soft rise of her breasts, her collarbone, sighing as her heat pulses against his own, the urge to enter her too strong to deny. He grasps himself by the base, squeezing a warning to last for her, before wedging his tip into her waiting core.

“Ben,” she whispers, breath rushed from her lungs. The both watch, dazed, as he manages to fit inside, the pleasure swirling between them. The power of the Force in their flesh, in their minds, clasps like iron chains, locking them together. And as he sheathes fully into her, he becomes her, as she becomes him.

“Rey… Rey,” he pants, the tight seize of her cunt holding him perfectly, the insurmountable warmth of her body threading through him, taking root. Slowly, trying to control himself, he tugs out, never leaving, before entering again.

She gasps quietly, her teeth bared as her strength returns, healing her through the short, blunt pains of his wanted intrusion. He pumps his hips in a slow rhythm, snapping into her and gaining speed as his patience wears thin. Her fingers weave through his hair, ignoring the sheen of sweat to grip him tightly, to hold steady as she gives herself over to the hunger inside him.

And when she cries out, oh so softly, his name a stutter on her lips, he kisses her, and loses the last of his control.

He thrusts into her, feeling her as she takes him, the wet heat of her pleasure slick and encouraging as it collides again and again with his weeping tip. He can feel himself tighten, release within reach, and he turns to latch onto her neck, hearing her cry out; it matters not whose release it is, all that matters is _this_.

His hands go to hold her still, keeping her at the angle he knows she likes, the place where her mind forgets all things but _more, more, more,_ just like his own.

“Rey…” he moans, sack coiled close to his body. He can feel it coming soon, and moves his thumb to stroke her swollen, aching nub. It pushes her along, her body writhing beneath him. Her nipples brush sweetly over the taut skin of his chest and he shudders with the effort to restrain himself, twitching within her. “Rey,” he gasps, “come for me. _Please_ ,” he groans, the wet slap of their bodies loud, drowning him with its sound. “I can’t hold on!”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, nails burrowed into the wings of his shoulder blades, raking up as her furious pulse crashes into his. “Harder, please, oh… _yes,_ Ben! You feel so good!”

“‘So good,’” he echoes thoughtlessly, ramming into her. The bed sheets wrinkle in spirals under them, his thrusts aiming deeper, striking her harder. “So good, so good, you feel so good… mine… my— _uh!”_

She twitches around him, her walls crashing over his cock, and he gasps in surprise as his spend rips from him, taking his energy and filling its empty spaces with the euphoric ecstasy of _her._

It pulses, flowing between them like crashing waves, and the light from beyond the window shines fully across the floor, over their bodies, casting them in the warm glow of love and certainty, unaware of the dangers that lie beyond.

 

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to subscribe to this series to get updated on when Part Two: "The Drifting Leaves Fell Around Me" comes out in 2019. (For those who are curious, there is a second part because of my inability to finish before the RFFA deadline and a desire to separate what will be very dark content from the narrative. This was the fluffy part—the next will be far more upsetting).
> 
> Thanks again! *hugs*


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